


There At The Turnstile

by FyrMaiden



Series: 2013 Klaine Advent [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:53:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4405310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyrMaiden/pseuds/FyrMaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine meets the boy of his dreams when he sleeps, and then he meets him on the stairs...</p>
            </blockquote>





	There At The Turnstile

**Author's Note:**

> 'river' fill, take 2.

Blaine doesn’t know who he is, but he dreams about him most nights, wakes up warm and sticky and breathing too hard, unable to focus on much except the cerulean swirl of his impossible eyes.

He first dreams of him when he’s 11. He’s just learning that there are words for the way he feels, that the lurch of his stomach during gym is okay, and that he’s not despicable for noticing the changes in his friends even as they begin to talk about girls in terms that are no longer about how they have cooties. His mom watches reruns of ER whilst she relaxes on the couch with a glass of wine, and Blaine sits at the opposite end and thinks, silently, the George Clooney is really kind of wonderful, and formulates a plan to become a doctor, a _paediatric doctor_ , because Doug Ross is so nice and kind and… And George Clooney becomes the first guy Blaine admits to himself he’s definitely crushing on. His first _celebrity_ crush.

It’s around that time that he first sees _him_ in his dreams. _He_ doesn’t have a name, just blue eyes and white skin, and his bangs swept across his forehead. In his dreams, the boy’s laugh is lyrical but his face is often sad. The best dreams, when he’s 11, are the ones where he makes him smile.

The first time Blaine feels guilty about him is the first time he wakes up with his pyjama pants stuck to him. It’s not his first wet dream, and it’s not the first time he’s touched himself, and it’s not the first fantasy he’s had of another man’s hands on his body. The boy in his dreams feels more real than that, though. The boy in his dreams feels solid, immutable, not like the idealised images of the men Blaine’s conscious mind enjoys. He cleans himself up in the bathroom, and sits on the lid of the toilet, and whispers a silent prayer for forgiveness. He doesn’t know who is listening, but he he’s sorry nonetheless.

Blaine is a silly romantic at heart. He thinks of him as the boy with kaleidoscope eyes, partly because he finds them beautiful and fractured and stunning and a lot because the nature of his existence, and the reality of it, feels a lot like what he imagines an LSD trip would be. He exists only as an Alice in Wonderland creation of Blaine’s imagination, under orange skies and flowers that tower like trees high above them. The boy wears a skull at his throat, or sometimes on his chest, and Blaine thinks of him as entirely other worldly. He’s entirely content to lay beside him and float, though.

His mom says, later, that the worst part of what happened when he was 14 was that Blaine lost a little of his childhood whimsy. She says he was always a dreamer, when he was small. She says he lived to dance and sing and make people smile, and for a little while, after that dance, he lost that. For Blaine, the worst part was losing the boy of his dreams. He carefully buttoned down the romantic, and started playing the role of best gay friend and charismatic leader, and it was okay. He lost his whimsy, but he was breathing and it was fine.

When he heard that voice on the stairs, he felt time literally stop, like he was remembering it from somewhere, from another time and place. “Oh, excuse me,” it said. “Um. Hi. Can I ask you a question? I’m new here.”

Blaine looks up into impossible cerulean eyes, a swirling kaleidoscope of colour and emotion, and it’s like remembering how to breath. “My name’s Blaine,” he says, because he’s never been able to before, and he smiles.

“Kurt,” he says.

 _Kurt_. Blaine turns it over in his head and offers his brightest smile in return. If he’s dreaming again, he doesn’t want to wake up. Kurt is back, and Blaine’s not letting go.


End file.
